


The Perfect Storm

by inquestionabletaste



Series: OTP: Nikolari [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Heterosexual Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8681632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquestionabletaste/pseuds/inquestionabletaste
Summary: In his pursuit of vengeance, The Listener gets more than he bargained for: Nikolaj counted on Ari being cunning and capable, but he didn't anticipate her being complex and compassionate as well. The longer he hunts her, the harder it becomes to make his kill.  An alternate universe where no one is Dragonborn and everything is difficult.





	1. Chapter 1

Ari hadn’t slept well in a month, and it showed in the shadows on her face. She sat in her favorite corner of the Flagon, untouched food on her plate and her second bottle of mead in front of her. She hated mead, but lately, she hated food more.

Brynjolf hadn’t joined her for dinner, and that was fine; she had very little to talk about. That aside, she didn’t want his comments about her appetite. Absently, she glanced around: the Flagon was usually empty this time of night — everyone was either out on business or getting some much-needed rest.

Momentarily, she slipped into a vivid memory of waking up on that cold, hard floor in the dark before coming to her senses. Making a face, she took a swig of the mead; she needed to forget.

From the other side of the room, Nikolaj watched as Ari drank deeply before setting her bottle down on the table with a dull ‘ _thud._ ’ Clearly, she was troubled: her every action denoted a wariness so consuming that it couldn’t have been from the drink. Silently, he stood and, bringing his own bottle, settled into the chair across from her.

“Mind if I join you? It’s never fun to drink alone.”

Ari leered at him, but with her best, most charming simper, she said, “Oh, you’d be surprised.” She pulled from from her bottle again. It was watery and the flavor tasted stale, but she drained the last of it. “But maybe you’ll be the one to surprise me.” She didn’t necessarily want company, but while she was rumored to be a lot of things, she wasn’t about to let ‘unfriendly’ become one of them.

“Surprises make life worth living,” he chuckled. “Or so I’m told.” He gestured to Vekel for another drink; the clink of gold confirmed the exchange and he set down the drink in front of his mark. He’d heard a little here and there about Ari — mostly unreliable gossip. What little solid information he had been able to glean told him that she was hiding more than a few secrets behind that clever smile. For one thing, she had Brynjolf’s trust, and despite his disarming appearance, that was no easy feat.

“So,” he said smoothly, “what has a pretty thing like you looking down the bottle?”

 _Oh, so that’s his angle_ , she thought. _How disappointing_. Fluttering her lashes, she fed him a soft laugh. “You know,” she wondered aloud, as if she thought she were the first person to say it, “being the Guildmaster’s right hand is a lot of work.” She considered the new bottle, but her stomach was beginning to churn. “Maybe I’m not cut out for it: there’s a lot of people who would kill for this job, I bet.” She remembered the night Bryn had asked her to take Mercer’s place, and then the fight that had ensued when she’d declined. Neither of them wanted the position, but at least the Guild would respect him.

Studying Nikolaj’s face, she tried to place him. “I’m sorry, it seems I drank my manners away. What is your name?”

“I’m Nikolaj, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And yes, Brynjolf can be a handful, if I recall.” He considered her, trying to imagine her in the Falkreath Sanctuary. She had to be very skilled despite her obtuse charade. He remembered Veezara’s corpse, the thin scales of his tender throat sliced open clean and methodical. He might have been impressed if it hadn’t been at the cost of his friend’s life. “How long do you plan to be in Riften? I admit, I’m a bit new, and I’d appreciate a helping hand.” He gave her an obvious once-over. “We’d split the profits of course, among other things.”

Ari scrutinized him. “It appears we already have.” She still couldn’t place him, and that concerned her. “Anyway, I’m on assignment as of tomorrow — Windhelm: great place to get in a few extra jobs, if you’re really interested.” She was wary of letting a stranger tag along, but as long as she kept her wits and knives about her, she’d be alright. “I pack light and I’m going by horse; steal one if you have to. I won’t carry dead weight.” She knew she came off as coarse, but she didn’t much care. A lot of the time, that was the best way to root out the good from the bad.

“Excellent,” he agreed. “I’ll see you at the city gate tomorrow morning, then.” Nikolaj hoped Ari wasn’t considering inquiring about him to Brynjolf. He wanted to trust that his secret was safe, but it would be far safer if the Guildmaster and Ari didn’t get a chance to speak. Polishing off his mead, he bid Ari goodnight before taking the secret passage into the Cistern; Brynjolf never strayed very far from it, these days, and waylaying him for a few hours wouldn’t be any trouble.

 

✧

 

Nikolaj stood under the shadow of Riften’s high walls, his own dappled mare saddled and ready for a day’s ride. A thick mist wafted off the lake and over the sleepy stable. He hid a yawn in his hand, hoping the journey wouldn’t be too trying.

Ari shook her head, surprised to see him waiting for her. She didn’t greet him in passing, only took stock of her belongings before readying her horse. She preferred to travel on foot, but the trip to Windhelm was too long and often, too perilous.

Pulling down her cowl, she spoke at last. “We’ll keep on the main road: two travellers is nothing to blink at. Besides, what with the war, I’m sure the road patrols have bigger fish to fry.” She pulled her cowl back up and hauled herself into the saddle.

With his bow strapped to his back and his hood drawn, he followed behind her. “Lead the way.” He considered the dangers that lay between Riften and Windhelm: roving bandits, trolls, giants...the occasional spriggan, if one knew where to look. The morning was pleasant as they headed down the road. “Since we have the time, we may as well get to know each other, hm?”

Ari pushed out a smile. She knew better than to pretend that there wasn’t much to know; better to remain short and sweet, and to stroke his ego. “What would you like to know?” As part of the Guild he probably already knew a thing or two — _everyone_ knew about her and Brynjolf. Still, she was glad for the opportunity to interrogate him.

“Something simple to start. Who taught you to use those?” He gestured at the beautiful knives on her belt. She might have been his mark, but he could admit to genuine curiosity. The bloodbath she’d left at the Sanctuary certainly proved that she knew how to wield them. If he was lucky, he might learn a thing or two before he killed her.

Unable to help herself, she laughed. How many people had Ari known before this? Not one of them had ever asked about her weapons. Perhaps someone had thought to, but no one had actually done it. Involuntarily, one of her hands dropped the reins and moved to the smooth handle of a knife. “Books, mostly,” she admitted. “My Da did the rest, although he preferred axes; always complained that a dagger is a lady’s implement.” She rolled her eyes. “What about you?” she nodded at his bow. “Hope you’re a good shot, what with the dragons about.”

He grinned at the roguish snap in her eyes. “A better shot than most, but I’m not bold enough to say I’m the best.” His smile fell and he turned reticent. “My mother could pin a fly to a tree at a hundred paces.” The thought of his mother never failed to bring him to wistful melancholy; she deserved so much more than the life that she’d lost. Realizing he’d fallen into silence, Nikolaj snapped back into conversation. “That’s a fine horse. I don’t imagine you came by it honestly.”

Trying not to boast was almost painful: it was a good story. “You’re right, but it’s a very long tale.” She tried to think of things to say, and more importantly, how to say them. “You must be very strong from using that bow,” she observed, careful to afford him a long, appreciative look. “Hard to tell under all that, though.” She hoped that with enough flattery, she could figure out what Nikolaj wanted from her. If a roll in the sheets was really all he’d been after, he’d have gotten it the night before. His desire to come on a job with her implied a certain degree of ambition; she wondered if he was trying to get to Brynjolf through her. It was an unsavory thought, but she wouldn’t be surprised. “I’m getting peckish. If you don’t mind, I know a good spot for lunch up ahead.”

“Maybe you’ll have time to tell me that story over a meal.” The crisp air was a nice contrast to the warm sunlight, and they continued in silence to their destination. Nikolaj preferred travelling alone, but he had to admit it was nice to have someone to talk to. He found Ari interesting — hiding so much of herself behind layers of obfuscation. He couldn’t wait to see who she really was underneath it all. To meet the woman who killed his friend.

About a mile after Shor’s Stone, Ari took them off the road and followed a small, dirt path until they arrived at an abandoned tower. It was in mild disrepair and looked like it hadn’t been properly inhabited in weeks, though the fire pit was doused in fresh ash.

After dismounting, she rummaged through her saddlebags until she found a small pouch. From it, she produced several large figs, a handful of almonds, and a jar of sweet cream. She would have preferred something heartier, but such was life on the road. Side-eyeing Nikolaj, she said, “I hope you brought food, but if you didn’t, I’ll share.”

“I have rations, but thank you for the offer,” he replied, fetching his own satchel of dried meats and hard cheese. He sat beside Ari, keeping an eye out for wild beasts or worse. But their tower remained silent, another casualty in the civil war. His eyes wandered to Ari’s meal, knowing he’d be disappointed if that was all he had to eat: nuts and fruit were well and good, but hardly cause for celebration. A small offer couldn’t hurt. “If you’d like, I’ll share some meat — it’s venison, if it matters.” He handed her a few strips. “Being raised by a hunter has some benefits, after all.”

It was kind of him: game wasn’t easy to fell, the way bedtime stories and leisure reading had led her to believe as a child. She was hesitant, though: food was enough of an ordeal, and food she hadn’t prepared herself was another matter entirely. “Let me see how I feel after this,” she offered diplomatically. She wasn’t someone who could tolerate silence and chewing, though. “You said you were raised a hunter? The hunter was your Ma, then? That must have been exciting.”

He nodded, swallowing a bite before speaking. “The best shot in Falkreath, if my grandfather is to be believed.” Puffing up and squaring his shoulders, he adopted a gruff voice. “A nat’ral talent, your mother. Put me to shame. Too bad you’re just all right.” He flashed a grin at Ari. “The old man doesn’t know much about my talent, and I suspect he never will — I certainly don’t plan on inviting him to bed with me.” He winked. “But enough of that. What led you to a life of crime?”

She hadn’t laughed this much in some time. “Necessity brought me here.” But she was tired of giving stock answers. “Honestly though? That horse over there,” she nodded at Frost. “I’d never stolen a thing in my life until I came to Riften. I got hired for a job and well...I guess I got greedy.” She smiled, remembering the exquisite parade of astonishment into helpless fury on Sibbi Black-Briar’s face as she’d extorted him in her most sultry voice. “Anyway, the person that horse belonged to...I payed my dues; Brynjolf made sure of it.” Her smile widened into a shameless grin.

“Wait, isn’t that the horse the Black-Briar boy lost? Even I heard about it; I could kiss you for that. Anything to bring Maven down with the rest of us.” Nikolaj coughed, clearing his throat. “Um, assuming you find Madame Black-briar as palatable as I do.” A moment too late, he considered that badmouthing the Guild’s chief patron might not go over well. Internally, he berated himself for oversharing.

Ari scoffed. “I need Maven like I need a hole in the head, but she’s also the reason I have steady work or a place to call home.” She sighed wearily. “After I stole her horse and robbed her blind, she had Brynjolf recruit me. He says she thought it would be a waste to throw me in jail, but I think she just wants to keep an eye on me.” Maven had always been a spot of contention amongst Guild members, but never more than now, with the civil war going its way. “What’d she do to you, anyway? Or this something political?”

Nikolaj shrugged. “Nothing especially political; I just prefer not to have one person hold so much power over me — well, most of the time,” he clarified with a crooked smirk. As a member of both Guild and Brotherhood, a great many of his actions were dictated by Maven — a fact that had always rubbed him the wrong way. “Maybe it’s a long leash, but it’s still a leash.” Packing up his rations, he moved to stand. “Shall we move on? We still have quite a bit of daylight left.”

“Even kings must heed a leash,” Ari bit back, “and it’s often held in many hands.”

Carefully, they rode into the valley. Their road was clear but it was long and winding, and falling into disrepair as a consequence of the war. As they descended the air thickened and Ari had to pull off her hood and tuck away her scarf. Her hair stuck out, the humidity making it into a haphazard halo. “We should break tonight, and then again in Kynesgrove.” She wiped the sweat off her neck. “I may also need to spend a night or two in Windhelm, but we’ll see about that.”

He studied the fading sky, overheating in his armor. He removed his thick riding gloves, fidgeting to replace them with his bow gloves, but out of habit, he left his hood up. A pond was nearby, a good place to wash off the sweat and water their horses. They caught sight of it before long — and an Imperial camp on the hill overlooking it. He glanced at Ari, gauging her reaction to the new development. She wasn’t necessarily unpleased, but definitely not pleased, either. “Would you rather camp elsewhere?”

“No, but let’s keep our distance.” She dismounted and posted Frost at a nearby tree. Their range from the encampment was decent, but fear still prickled along her skin. But travellers came and went all the time, so long as they didn’t cause any trouble, no one would need to come down investigating. Nodding at the pond, she said, “That water looks nice and cool. Are you going to be the gentleman, or shall I?” She had begun dismantling her armor, buckle by buckle, strap by strap — difficult to do, but not impossible. She watched Nikolaj for a reaction; she wasn’t a modest person, but she didn’t want to make herself a nuisance, either. “While I’m in the water, you should, I don’t know, pitch a tent or something.” She chuckled at her own stupid joke.

Bowing deeply, Nikolaj locked his eyes on Ari’s hands as she disrobed. “By all means.” He smiled wolfishly, watching as the water swallowed her generous curves. “Brynjolf is a lucky man,” he called when she resurfaced, hands busied with setting up his tent. “How long did it take him to find you?” If it was anything like his own experience, not very long.

Remembering the entire ordeal, she laughed, pulling up her legs and allowing the water to support her. Floating, she enjoyed the water lapping at the edges of her face, at her ears. “The way he spoke, I thought he was _propositioning_ me,” she recalled, splashing about. “I don’t know. I think it was a month or so before Maven sicced him on me.” On the shore, she’d left her soap tin and a comb. Boldly, she sat in the pebbly sand to comb her hair before lathering it. “What about you? Or did you simply fall in his lap?”

Nikolaj was trying very hard to be the gentleman his mother would have expected him to be. Instead of looking at her, he unsaddled his horse and rubbed her down with a curry comb. “Almost,” he answered. “I tried to pickpocket him.” He remembered seeing Brynjolf with his fine clothes, the comfortable way he carried himself, and assumed he was a merchant. Someone with money, at the very least. “As you can imagine, I didn’t get very far.” His eyes darted to where Ari was preening, staring a minute before he went to collect kindling. “How do you keep your affairs a secret from Brynjolf?”

She snorted. “There aren’t so many secrets between us,” she assured him. She thought of how easy it was with Brynjolf, how little he expected of her. He didn’t demand to be her heart’s sole occupant, which was refreshing. Half the time, Ari didn’t even know if her heart had the room.

Gradually, she waded back into the water; the air had warmed her skin and it was slow going. Once her toes couldn't touch the bottom, she submerged herself and the world shrank back. In the quiet darkness of the pond, she felt safe. A fish darted by and brushed her ankle, shattering the illusion. She crashed through the surface of the water, sputtering, laughing at her own panic. She ran her fingers through her hair until the water ran clean, then got out of the pond. Dirt stuck to her feet and she made a face.

She draped a towel about her shoulders, but didn’t bother holding it closed. Starting from her calves, she rubbed a sweet-smelling slave into her skin. Her legs were beginning to stubble, and she was irritated about it. Looking up, she caught him sneaking glances at her. “Oh for crying out loud, if you’re going to look, then look. Or are you an embarrassed boy masquerading as a man?”

“I, well…” he stuttered, flustered. “You’re just so —” He took a breath and started over. “You confuse me, is all. And then, I thought of how my mother...uh….” He could feel his face burning up, and he was upset at himself for looking an idiot. 

“Anyway, how long did it take for you to end up with Bryn?” Ari asked, sparing him.

“Oh, it took long enough,” he joked, trying to rejoin the rhythm of conversation. He allowed his gaze to linger on the swell of her breasts, now that he had permission. “It was around the time you pulled the job at Goldenglow, I think.” Nikolaj recalled discovering that he was the Listener not a fortnight before. Not knowing who else he could go to, he’d confided in Brynjolf. “We shared some mead, and then a bed by the end of the night,” he surmised, keeping the details muddy.

Ari shook her head, massaging the salve into her cuticles. “Such is his way, or so I’ve heard." She stared unabashedly at Nikolaj, considering him with shrewd eyes. She still didn’t know what to make of him, but she wouldn’t mind finding out.

The kindling he’d found crackled under a dull flame now, accentuating the silence. Ari was bad at silences; she made trivial conversation just to avoid them.

Once she was satisfied with her hands, she started on her neck and chest. The scent of honey and almonds was overpowering. “Confusing, am I?” she said. “That’s a rude way of calling me mysterious.” The night was creeping in and she shivered. “Thieves are meant to be mysterious, or at least, that’s what I’ve always read in books.”

It was still too hot to sleep in clothes, so she wrapped her towel around herself and secured it beneath an arm. Pulling her bedroll from the saddle, she unrolled it by the fire, underneath the stars.

“You mentioned your mother, again. She wouldn’t approve of your profession, I suppose? Certainly not of your gawking, the way you tell it.” She liked teasing him.

Nikolaj gathered his own soap tin and towel, fastidiously removing his armor and clothing and stepping into the cool water. He waded forward until it lapped at his shoulders, dunking his head before answering her.

“I wouldn’t say she’d disapprove,” he considered, treading water. “She recognized skill wherever she saw it; she respected skill. The gawking, however, would have earned me a cuffed ear.” It was nice to talk about his mother; this way, it felt like she could meet new people. He returned to shore for his soap, scrubbing the bar over his skin. Lost in thought, he almost forgot about his audience. “I may not be as nordly as other people, but you’re welcome to look if you’d like.” He continued to scrub at himself, feeling gangly and slim. He’d inherited his father’s olive skin and wiry frame, a fact that had frustrated him as he’d grown. “What about your own family? Do they know about what you do?”

Sprawled on her bedroll, her chin tucked into folded arms, Ari watched him. He was very nice to look at, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Guilt blossomed inside her; it had been awhile since she’d thought about her family. Initially she rejected his question on principle, but cautiously, she came back to it to look it in the eye. She stared at Nikolaj while she untangled her thoughts, at the way his muscles pulled in his back as he moved, the way his legs looked, tapering gracefully at his knees, his ankles.

Finally, she decided, “My Ma would want me happy and provided for; my Da would be disappointed.” Then she averted her eyes. “You know,” she said to distract herself, “I never imagined Skyrim got so hot, even in the summer. I guess I’d always just thought it would be mild. The bugs and the mugginess...I wasn’t prepared.”

“Your mother would be happy for you, then. Here you are, provided for — and on someone else’s coin! As for your father, well, he sounds like a Nord.” Nikolaj sank back under the water, washing the suds from his hair.

Ari laughed. “He’d be pleased to hear that.”

Nikolaj surfaced, smoothing his hair back. “There are some places that stay frozen most of the year, but we still get the heat. Where did you grow up?” On the shore, he toweled himself dry before pulling on a pair of linen trousers and sitting across from Ari by the fire.

“In Cyrodiil — maybe two weeks from Falkreath by horse, if you’re careful.” All this talk of family and home was starting to get under her skin. “You know, you’re a little confusing, yourself. Why volunteer yourself for such a long job, and with a perfect stranger? Profit’s all well and good, but this could go wrong. We have a lot of time between now and coming home the richer.

He grinned. “That’s what makes it fun, don’t you agree? Besides, we’re not complete strangers, now.” He allowed his smile to fall, exhaling in a puff. “In truth? I didn’t want to go it alone. There was an...incident, recently...with the Brotherhood.” He stared solemnly into the fire, thinking of the carnage he’d found at the Falkreath sanctuary. “I don’t know if you’ve had any dealings with them.”

Seamlessly, Ari’s face became placid; she wore a veil of carefully crafted concern and tentative curiosity. “An incident?” She cocked her head. “That sounds personal. I’m sorry to hear it.” In flashes, she was thrust back to the night she’d killed the head of the Brotherhood, the stench of dried blood filling her nose. Nauseated, she said, “We’ve crossed paths from time to time — the nature of the job, professional politics and all that. I make it my business to avoid them.” She was rambling, she realized, and tried to shut up. Moreover, if she could change the subject, she would. She let her towel fall, exposing more cleavage. “I have a shoulder available for crying, or, whatever helps you out.” Her words were hollow though, spoken in that affected sweetness she was so tired of wearing.

Nikolaj noticed her sudden change, momentarily thrown off his guard. “I see.” His eyes drifted down from her neck before he remembered he had a job to do. “My situation was more professional than I would have liked. They —” he hesitated, making a show of his reluctance. “They tried to recruit me,” he whispered. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m no killer, _I’m not_.” He looked into her eyes as he spoke, searching for validation. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “Say you believe me.”

His touch was like being caught in a trap. She didn’t recoil, though; the harder she tried to wriggle out of a trap, the tighter it would hold. Instead, she held his gaze and allowed his hand to fall where it might. Still, she was careful to keep her tone even and her posture relaxed. “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked softly.

“I—I’m sorry.” He retracted his hand, his eyes falling back to the fire. “To even be considered was unsettling. It’s affected me more than I’d care to admit.” His voice sounded empty. “I suppose I was desperate for someone to think better of me.” The small smile on his lips held no humor and it faded quickly. He hoped it was enough to throw her off; it wouldn’t do to underestimate her. Finding her eyes again, he said, “I hope this hasn’t all been too off-putting.”

She laughed, and the tension was decimated, its splinters dissipating. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to put me off.” She stretched. “I should eat, but I’m too tired. I think I’m going to turn in.” Burrowing under a thin sheet, she propped her head on her arms. She longed for a bed. “If it gets too hot in that tent of yours, you’re welcome to drag yourself out here and join me.”

He smiled, relieved. “And if the bugs eat you alive out here, you’re welcome to join me in my tent.” Quickly, he ate his own meal and wished Ari a soft goodnight before going to bed.

In the morning, faint sounds from the Imperial camp woke him sooner than he would have liked. Emerging from his tent, he took stock of the gray light and crisp morning air. He wished it would last, but soon the sun would rise over the valley and warm the air. Ari stirred in her bedroll, but he wasn’t sure if she was awake or not.

After splashing his face, he watered the horses, checking them both for any ticks they might have picked up in the tall grass. Satisfied, he returned to their little camp and quietly dismantled his tent. A rabbit darted out from a nearby copse of trees; it would make a good breakfast. Bow in hand, he crept after it, notching an arrow. He let out a breath as his arrow flew, finding its target. He cooked the rabbit until its skin was crisp, digging through his satchel for salt to season it with.

The smell and noise didn’t wake Ari, but they also didn’t put her back to sleep. She offered only a noncommittal grunt as she passed Nikolaj. She knelt at the pond and washed her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She sighed as she pulled on the same clothes as she’d worn the day before; they smelled like her sweat and perfume, but she wanted to wait until they got to the city to change properly. She didn’t bother fussing with her armor just yet, as it was early still and she didn’t want the frustration.

“Look what I brought.” From a saddlebag, she produced a small, cone-shaped sieve, and a glass bowl. In another bag, she had coffee grounds, which she poured into the sieve; it fit neatly into the bowl’s lip. Pouring the contents of her waterskin into it, she held the whole operation over the fire while it dripped. “All I have for it is sugar,” she warned him.

The first time Nikolaj had coffee was in Cyrodiil; remembering it as bitter, he added a generous amount of sugar. “We don’t get this much up here,” he commented. Slicing up the rabbit, he offered her the first pick. “Breakfast, for the lady.”

“My parents went through a fair amount of it.” She helped herself to the tenderest bits, accompanying them with what was left of her fruit. “I never remember liking it, I just know that now I drink it.”

“Your family must have been one of means,” Nikolaj observed between bites. He imagined a young Ari, surrounded by wealth, drinking coffee in fine dresses and being waited upon by servants. He wondered what had led her to leave such a charmed life.

Eating, she sipped the coffee and gazed off at nothing. It was already starting to get warm. “I hope to reach Kynesgrove by tonight; mostly I want a full meal and a real bed.”

He washed the grease off his hands and refilled his waterskin at the pond, allowing his mare to drink from it as he saddled her and packed up camp. At last, he donned his armor, not looking forward to baking inside it. “Ready?” he asked, mounting his horse in one fluid motion.

Having strapped herself back into her armor, she hefted herself back onto Frost. “I suppose I am.”

They ambled down the sloping roads at a leisurely pace; there were no cobbles here and the dirt was likely to simply give out under the horses. Still bristling at his comment, she couldn’t resist getting into it. “We weren’t wealthy,” she said out of the blue. “My family, I mean. Compared to some, surely, but we wouldn’t have amounted to much in a city. My Da was the only smith in a small town, is all.” Her mother was a skilled healer, too, but she preferred not to mention it; knowing a parent practiced magic tended to put ideas in people’s heads. “Your mother hunted — she must have made a decent living.”

“She did, especially in the cities. She did most of her business in Falkreath and Whiterun, but once in a while, we’d make it all the way up to Solitude.” Some of his fondest memories were from his travels with his mother: she told him stories of the old kings, of the Gods, and they would stay at inns where he would make friends with other children while his mother bargained. Silence fell over them until Nikolaj had a thought. “This is a shot in the dark, but you wouldn’t have happened upon a merchant named Quintus Oranus, have you?”

Ari’s brow furrowed as she combed her memory. It sounded familiar, the way that most Nibenese names did when you grew up in Cyrodiil, but she couldn’t put it to a face. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I have. Why?”

Nikolaj shrugged. “He’s my father, apparently. I’ve never met him, myself; I don’t think he even knows I exist.” He remembered his last attempt at finding Quintus: his mother had only given him a name, unable to recall where he was from. “Trying to find one Imperial in the whole of Cyrodiil, provided he even still lives there…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’d like to meet him one day, I think, just to see what he’s like.”

Ari nodded slowly. “There’s merit in that. Some things only make sense after you have all the pieces. Sometimes you just want to know where you come from.” She knew where she came from; she only wished she knew where she was supposed to go. “Does it bother you at all? That you don’t know him?”

“Not particularly. My mother and grandfather raised me well enough. Trying to find him has proven to be the most frustrating part: I only hope he’s worth all the effort.”

A thick, sulfurous breeze wafted over them, signaling their descent into the belly of the valley. Steam rose from the myriad pools that dotted the land, and the sun felt like a weight on their backs. “Shall we stop for lunch soon? Preferably out of this oppressive sunlight.”

Spurring Frost into a trot, Ari said, “I know a shaded copse not far from here.” She was hungry, but the heat made eating unappealing. “I’m sorry about dragging you through here; we could have taken the Miller’s Road, but this was faster.”

By the time they stopped, the sun had reached its peak. Bugs buzzed loudly by their ears, and the air felt so wet that it was like drowning. The stench of the springs was downwind, at least, though it was still noticeable. Ari was about to say something — small talk, something trivial — when a terrible rumble splintered the air. “Was that…?” Ari struggled to place the sound. “That wasn’t thunder, was it?” She held out her hand for rain despite a clear blue sky.

Nikolaj looked up and then around, listening. The horses whickered nervously. “Ari, I think we—” The air cracked again, this time accompanied by the beating of massive wings. The dragon roared again, its enormous shadow gliding over them before it sailed off, searching for prey. Nikolaj stood quickly, adrenaline biting through him. Ari already had Frost’s reins in hand. “Alright,” he whispered, “let’s lead the horses until we reach more even terrain. After that, we’ll mount and ride for Kynesgrove. Talos willing, we’ll make it before the dragon notices us.”

“Let’s keep off the road; head for the trees.” She pointed at a thick cluster of greenery. Frost let himself be guided, but he gave her some trouble. Her heart was in her throat, and the grove — which was maybe a hard stone’s throw away — seemed impossibly far. There was no shadow, but she heard the dragon bellow once more and felt that she might throw up. Once they reached the shroud of the treeline, Ari stopped. “We have to calm them down,” she nodded at the horses. “We won’t get far on frightened, stubborn beasts.” Stroking Frost’s muzzle, she tried to soothe him.

Following suit, Nikolaj attempted console his mare when an all-too familiar stench reached him. His head snapped up, confirming his fears: blood and bones littered the ground in front of a dilapidated hut. The smell of rotten corpses and molted feathers fermented by the heat felt like a paste stuck to the back of his throat. He broke out in a cold sweat. Panic turned his arms to lead while anxiety zipped through him. He fumbled for his bow, reaching several times for an arrow before succeeding. His mare noticed his condition and bolted; he barely noticed. Frost tried to follow Nikolaj’s horse, and though she held onto his reins, in the end, Ari had to let him loose.

Nikolaj glanced around wildly, his fingers clumsy and his bow too thick. All at once his senses felt too sharp and hopelessly dull, smothered in a cotton cocoon. A shadow stirred in the hut and he loosed an arrow, and another, and another, his heartbeat deafening in his own ears.

Whipping around, Ari saw the decrepit thing straggling out into the open. In the distance, the dragon could still be heard. “Oh, damn it.” Ignoring Nikolaj’s fearful noises, she lunged forward. Her father’s words from after every sparring match nagged at her, ‘ _Too aggressive! Defend yourself!_ ’ She blocked it out. In her experience, it was a staunch offense that had kept her breathing. She tried not to get distracted, readying herself for the first blow. She hesitated, though, and the Hagraven whipped her away, its claws leaving an ugly scratch on her armor. She tried to get up again, but the thing advanced on her. Nikolaj’s arrows, which he seemed to be firing at will, were only making things harder. She suffered a bad burn and another physical blow — this time, right through her weakened armor. It stung, harsh and distracting. The heat and exhaustion and the ache of adrenaline in her veins slowed her down, but she persisted. In her efforts, she lost track of all else, including Nikolaj.

He was panic-stricken, the continuous fire of arrows all he was capable of. The hagraven lobbed a fireball at him and it connected squarely with his chest. He fell backward, dropping his bow. Pain throbbed with every movement, cutting through the haze of the blow. He watched Ari tear into the thing, watched her take hit after hit, determined. Sluggishly, he took up his bow. Another fireball was launched in his direction, and he moved a moment too late; it grazed the length of his arm, searing his skin. Panic hit him full-force when he reached for an arrow and found he had none left. Dropping his bow, he reached for the daggers on his belt, feeling sick, his hand clammy. Every breath hurt and his arms felt heavier and heavier. With a yell, he pushed himself forward, daggers glinting in the sunlight before he plunged them into the hagraven. It slashed at him, its claws making ribbons out of him. The smell of blood and scorched flesh soaked in his senses; some of his swings landed wide, striking Ari too. Finally, the hagraven let out an anguished screech, collapsing into a pile of feathers and viscera in the dirt.

Ari’s first instinct was to get him cleaned up and cared for, but for one thing, there could be other hagravens about, and for another, her kit was on Frost. She chased herself in circles for a moment, weighing the odds. She was going to have to gamble one way or another. Nikolaj was curled in on himself, covered in blood. “You —!” she waved her finger at him, like a mother admonishing her child. Fear raised her voice and she couldn’t seem to stop it. “Stay here! Don’t move. Don’t fight. You know what you can do? Breathe. Keep doing that, because that’s all you’re allowed to do.” Then she took off to look for the horses.

Nikolaj heard Ari’s words as exhaustion and pain filtered through him, anchoring himself in the facts: the hagraven was dead. He was alive. Ari was alive. The cloying odor of the hagraven’s corpse and his own burned skin filled his nose; he vomited, each heave wracking his body with a fresh lance of pain. Tears sprouted in his eyes and he began to shiver. He hoped Ari would come back soon.

Ari looked high and low, ducking for cover whenever she thought she heard wind under wings. Eventually, she did locate Frost, but the other horse seemed to be lost for good. She couldn’t ride, though, the exertion and pain from the incident weighing her down; she couldn’t even get her foot in the stirrup, let alone swing herself into the saddle. By the time she reached the grove, Nikolaj had passed out. Carefully, she put her hand just over his mouth; his hot breath condensed on her skin. She didn’t want to think about it, but she hadn’t much choice in the matter. Fruitlessly, she tried to drag him off the ground so she could get him onto the horse, crying the entire time. At first, her tears were quiet and few, but by the time she’d reached the end of her strength, she was sobbing in hideous, staccato gasps.

Frost looked on at the spectacle with big, hollow eyes. The air smelled and tasted like death: blood and gore and charred plant matter. Her wounded shoulder was throbbing and she could feel the warmth of blood soaking her clothes under her armor. She needed to free the wound before the linen of her shirt got stuck in it. By the time she had most of her armor off, her tears had run dry and she was mostly just hiccupping. She managed to get out of her shirt, though it was painful to lift her arm. She blew her nose into the cloth a few times and chucked it away; it was ruined and she didn’t much care. Hers was small change compared to the damage on her companion, she figured.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, hands shaking while she found the catches in his armor. He didn’t move or cry out when she removed it, but he was still breathing, just like she’d told him too. His chest was a mess, the skin frayed and burned and swollen; puss had already begun to infect the wound and the smell was putrid. She gagged, but forced her gut into submission. Carefully, she pressed around his wounds until the blood ran clean. “I’m so sorry I took you with me. I never should have—” Her chest began to constrict and her body was wracked with dry sobs. She continued to berate herself uncontrollably, all the while working at his chest. She couldn’t do much for him here, though. From one of her bags, she found a small vial of paste she’d made from some wheat and crushed flower petals; it was by no means a cure, but at least it would stem any infection until she could get him someplace safe. Finally, she managed to get them both onto Frost. As she steered them towards Kynesgrove, she tried not to collapse in the saddle.  


	2. Chapter 2

Nikolaj’s eyes snapped open and he sat up from a dead sleep, immediately regretting it. Everything was sore; his limbs felt heavy and lifeless, so he sank back into the pillows, trying to recall how he got there. All he really remembered was the hagraven, and Ari…

“Ari?” he croaked, his voice weak. Looking around, he noticed a pitcher of water, a bowl, and a mound of blood-soaked rags. “Ari!” He tried to lift his injured arm; it was doable, but it was anything but comfortable. Heaving his other arm to his chest, he inspected the damage: the pain was unbearable. He groaned, knowing he would almost certainly need a new piece of armor. With a deep breath, he furrowed his brow and tried to summon some magic. A healing spell wibbled in his hand before he had to let it go, sweat breaking on his forehead. He sighed, exhausted. “Ari!” he tried again.

Ari was in the washroom, soaking painfully in a bath with a pinch of salt. She didn’t know how long she’d been in the bath, but she was beginning to nod off. After everything she’d been through, she wasn’t about to drown in a washtub. Getting out, she toweled off as much as she could; it was too painful to lift her arm so she tolerated her hair dripping onto her shoulders. She gave her shoulder one last go of it, flesh knitting together in quick, unnerving succession. She bit her lip and tried not to cry. What should have taken weeks in nature was taking minutes, and it was no easy feat. Remembering what her mother had taught her, she repeated a mantra in her head — it had nothing to do with magic, it only kept her from losing focus. When she’d finished, all that was left were a few white, wispy scars — and of course, the pain. That wouldn’t be banished so easily.

“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” She winced as she walked into the little room. “I thought you might die on me; then I’d never speak to you again.” She closed the door and sat on the single bed, damp and weak. “How’s your chest? Your arm? Can you move alright? Is there any pain when you breathe?” She wracked her brain for all the standard questions, but mostly she just wanted to sleep.

“It feels worse than it is,” he lied. He fell silent a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m, ah...I’m sorry, for everything.” He gazed at her, searching. She appeared as tired as he felt. Gesturing at his bandages, he asked, “Did you do all this? How are you doing?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Gently, she pushed him back down so that he lay flat. “Let me get a good look at you; you could use some new dressing, anyway.” Carefully, she undid his bandages and peeled away the bloodied cotton strips. “It’s a bit like unwrapping presents, isn’t it?” she said sarcastically. She had managed to heal up his arm well enough, but he still had some irritated scar tissue. His chest was bruised and lacerated; he was in no shape to travel. “Well, you can wait for me to get my strength back up, or you can bite down and let me sew you up now. Your choice.”

He weighed his options in his head. “Might as well get it over with. You know, someday, these scars might earn me a tumble in the sheets. What do you think?” He tried to laugh, but it hurt and deteriorated into an ugly cough. “Where are we?” he asked, watching her gather her supplies. “And how did we get here?”

“Kynesgrove. And by sheer force of will. I hauled you here like cargo; it’s a good thing Frost is so big.” She sat beside him, crushing up some canis root with some paste in a mortar. “This won’t take the pain away, but it will dull it, for a while.” She smeared it across the uninjured parts of his chest, rubbing it in, ignoring his grunts and flinches. While it absorbed, she pulled out a large eyed needle and a spool of silk thread and began preparing.

Frustrated, Ari fought with her towel: it was thick and made her clumsy, as it wouldn’t tie or remain tucked for any length of time.

“I’m wasting my time with this, right?” she gestured at it. “You did say you wanted to see how I was faring.”

“It would distract me, anyway,” Nikolaj grinned. He tried to keep his voice light, though he dreaded seeing what damage she had taken on his account. If only he hadn’t panicked… He considered asking after his horse, but determined that Ari would have told him if she’d retrieved it. The thought saddened him. His eyes found the opposite wall especially interesting. “Thank you. I would have died if you hadn’t...well, thank you, anyway.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, threading her needle.

Ari thought of how she’d undressed in front of him at the camp. This didn’t feel the same. She balled up her towel and kicked it away, quickly, clinically. Climbing on top of him, she straddled his waist. “On three.” She leaned in close. “Three, two, one —” Using her weight, she held him down and pierced his skin. Thinking on the times she’d helped her mother sew people up, how she would read to the patients. But when she was the one doing the stitching, she couldn’t very well think of much else. “Since I don’t have anything for you to bite down on and since I don’t want to think about anything besides this needle in my hand, I’m just going to talk to you. This stitch I’m doing on your chest — don’t move — is called Honnrich’s Running Stitch.” She examined his wound as she went, but didn’t expect to find any surprises. “A lot of stitches will fall out of place with any real exertion,” she explained, “but this should stay nice and tight, even if one of them breaks.” She kept at her work, ignoring his strained noises. “And you might think that scars will get you fucked, but trust me when I say you want this to heal evenly.” When she was finished, she sat back on him and admired her work.

“Well, that was…bracing.” He grimaced. The pain had dulled some, with the help of the salve. It also helped that she was no longer stabbing him repeatedly with a needle. She had been quick about it, but he hoped he wouldn’t need stitching again anytime soon. “So you’ve seen mine. How about yours?”

Ari shifted her weight on his hips. Taking his good arm, she put his hand in hers and pressed it to her injured shoulder so he could touch her ghostly scars. “I admit, I figured if I didn’t save myself first, there wasn’t much I could do for you.” She let her eyes fall down his chest, his lean frame; just checking for more injuries, she told herself. “Is there anything else?” she asked, just to confirm. Without her realizing, her toes curled. “You’re going to need to exercise that arm, keep it from warping.”

Nikolaj felt every one of Ari’s movements, and he didn’t miss her wandering eye. It pleased him more than it should have. He gazed at her body and asked, “Would you show me how?”

She grinned. It was like every one of her mother’s bad novels that she’d excavated from under her parents’ bed. “A demonstration, then.” She climbed off of him and helped him maneuver so that there was space for her to sit behind him. “Like this.” Gingerly, she took his injured arm and helped him lift it until it was level with his chest. “Out.” She guided his arm until it was perpendicular to his body. “And now back in. Flex your hand.” She rested her chin on his good shoulder; his hair tickled her nose. Pressed against him, her fingers fluttered around the margins of his wound. “Check it twice a day, or have me do it if you’re afraid you’ll miss something.”

“I’d probably miss a lot of things,” he answered cheekily. Her skin was so soft against his back. He tried to glance at her over his shoulder, but it hurt too much. Instead, he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “There’s something you could do for me now,” he said. Nerves made him shakier than he wanted to sound. “Since my chest is healing and since I’ll probably be bedridden for at least a day — augh, I’m no good at this. I’ll just come out and say it. I would love for you to sit on my face.”

He waited for her to laugh, or to jump away from him.

Her breath caught in her throat. She felt like she’d been punched in the chest. She stroked his hip, grazing his ear with her teeth. “Nikolaj, don’t go incurring debts if you aren’t going to deliver.” Every muscle in her body felt tense, a dull ache throbbing beneath her skin. “Besides, I don’t need to be dined first, but I wouldn’t decline a good kissing.”

Nikolaj smiled and his lips found hers, biting playfully. He wanted more contact than their position would allow, but he tried to focus on her mouth instead, his tongue meeting hers. In his enthusiasm, he twisted too far and a twinge of pain twinged in his side. He winced. “Mm, come into my lap,” he said, kissing her again for good measure.

Ari was accustomed to Brynjolf, with whom she was so practiced it bordered on rote. This was new and strange and she hadn’t expected it: the flirting was one thing, but he wasn’t playing anymore. Even though she’d been on top of him, naked, now she felt vulnerable. Helplessly, she smiled into their kiss, and felt stripped for it.

Idly, as she moved around him, she wondered how long this had been simmering, if she’d been wrong about him. “How long have you been thinking about this?” she demanded, grinding in his lap. She peppered his face with kisses, lingering along his stubbly jaw. He smelled clean, like the soap she’d washed him with.

“I’d ah, I’d be lying if I said your show at camp didn’t pique my interest.” He groaned, his hips rolling against hers. He cupped one of her breasts while his good hand ventured between her legs, pushing between her lips; she was already wet. She felt exquisite: he only hoped her gasps and sighs were genuine, not for his benefit. He kissed her neck and the shell of her ear as his fingers massaged her clit. “Cum for me,” he whispered.

She growled, resisting him a little. “You’re not getting off that easy.” She wanted to be rough with him, wishing she could pull him down the bed by his ankles and pull his face between her legs. Seeing as how she’d only just mended him though, she’d hate to do her own work such a disservice. “Get on your back,” she ordered. Her thighs were shaking. “Once you’ve healed you can do whatever you like with me, but for now, you’re mine.”

Pleased, he complied, her tone sending shivers down his spine. Once he was settled, she lowered herself over his face and he happily swiped his tongue against her, enjoying her. Moaning, he traced his tongue around her clit before slipping it inside of her.

Ari longed for a bed with a headboard. Instead, she braced herself against the cold stone wall. Her injured arm was beginning to ache though, she she moved her weight into her thighs and buried her hand in his hair. She pushed her fingers through it, grabbing a handful experimentally. She held him down while she rode his face, gasping at his liberal use of tongue.

“Oh...I’m…” She lost her breath for a moment. “I’m going to have to keep you.” She picked up the pace, reveling in the slip of his lips against hers. His tongue filled her and she was almost embarrassed by the wet noise it made. Reaching behind herself, she stroked his cock a few times. “If I cum, you’re on your own.”

He grunted, the strokes of his tongue turning languid. Her praise made him glow; his hips pushed his cock into her hand while he pressed his tongue deeper, her moans encouraging him. The pressure building in his navel was reaching a head, so he increased the intensity of his tongue’s thrusts. His jaw was sore, but he moaned, deeply happy.

His voice sent vibrations through her. But arching back, trying to touch him, the angle had become awkward. She moved off of him a moment only to push her cunt back in his face, this time so that she could touch him comfortably. Propped up on her elbows, she put her mouth on his cock, trying not to rest her body on his. Her shoulder was cramping, but she barely noticed the pain. She would regret it later, but she didn’t let that stop her.

Nikolaj’s cock felt warm and heavy in her mouth, and she wanted to take more time with him. But by now, her head was cloudy and her heart was racing. She sat up, keeping her hand on his cock, but her strokes were erratic. “I need—” Her fingers curled around his hip, her nails digging into the skin while she was wracked by an orgasm. It was long and came in waves, more like when she was alone than when she had a partner. Her thighs squeezed around his face as she pushed back on him, moaning loudly, stringing together praise with nonsense. She barely held onto consciousness long enough to suck him back into her mouth, her lips wrapped wetly around him.

Nikolaj groaned, his mouth and chin soaked. Part of him hoped her scent would linger in his stubble. Gently, he licked her clean, careful to avoid her clit. With her mouth on him, it wouldn’t be long. He squeezed her thigh in warning right before he found release, his hips pushing his cock into her warm mouth. He couldn’t tell if she’d spit or swallowed, and he didn’t especially care anyway. At his first opportunity, he kissed Ari, tasting himself on her lips.

“I might have to keep you, too,” he said, covering her face and neck in kisses. It was only as exhaustion seduced him into sleep that he realized what he’d said.

  


*       *       *

  


Nikolaj woke before dawn, wishing — not for the first time — that his internal clock would allow him to sleep in. Ari was warm beside him; her head rested on his shoulder, her limbs laying claim to half of his body. His arm was falling asleep and her breath tickled his neck, but he could sustain the discomfort just a little while longer, he told himself. He watched her sleep, mulling over the night before, and the things he’d said.

He should have killed her. He had an obligation to the Brotherhood — to Veezara. _But she saved my life_ . It shouldn’t matter; he was an assassin. _She would kill me too, if she knew_ , he reminded himself. He remained unconvinced.

The wound on his chest stung. His bandages could use changing, probably, particularly after their vigorous night together. He kissed the top of her head. “Good morning,” he said softly.

Ari groaned unhappily when Nikolaj’s voice woke her. Pain throbbed through her entire body. In the night, her bones had been turned to lead and nausea had made a nest in her gut. Her mouth tasted like sleep and cum. She shifted and was startled awake by a stinging in her shoulder. Turning her head, she hissed against Nikolaj’s skin. “Is it?” But the ache went deeper than that, something untreatable. She remembered their night together in pieces, desperately trying to separate reality from dreams. “Is it early?” It was dark, and she could barely make out the shape of him through the sleep in her eyes.

“Near dawn, I think,” he answered, feeling suddenly guilty for waking her. “Windhelm is just half a day’s ride. How are you feeling?” He tried moving his arm to comfort her, but his injury screamed with the movement.

“I feel like that dragon chewed me up and spit me out.” She disentangled herself from him and made it to the edge of the bed before she had to rest. She sat with her feet on the floor, hunched over so that the dizziness in her head would abate. “What about you, though? Damn it, I should have checked on you in the night. I should have woken up.” Getting up, she stumbled across the room, her joints stiff.

Carefully, she undid his dressing. Shaking her head, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I should have…” With her hand, she washed away the crusted blood from his stitches and gently patted him dry.

“No, it’s fine. Really. I should apologize to you: you would have been better off without me tagging along.” He remembered the hagraven and flinched. _It’s dead_ , he told himself. _It’s dead_.

When Ari was finished with him, he sat up, every part of him complaining. He tried to stand, almost immediately sitting back down. “I think the entire city of Windhelm could stand to come to us rather than us going to it, don’t you agree?” he joked.

She smiled, amused. “And are you going to throw a rope around it? Bring it here?” The image of Nikolaj — scrawny, beanpole Nikolaj — hauling the city to them made her laugh. But laughing hurt her sore ribs. She became grim, thinking of everything that had happened. She got up and preoccupied herself with getting dressed: gray leggings, black shirt, swathed in a black cloak. She had a scarf somewhere, but didn’t feel like digging for it. When she couldn’t escape the singular, invasive thought anymore, she gave voice to it. “Nikolaj? Why didn’t you run? I might have died or I might not have, but you could have run.”

The cold grip of horror chilled his spine. “No,” he said, quickly, quietly. His eyes were distant, staring at something not entirely there. “You can’t run. You can never get away. They’ll find you and catch you.” Absently, he stroked the scars on his cheek. He blinked then, seeming to finally emerge from the past. “I couldn’t leave you to that.”

  
  
  


It took some doing to get Nikolaj into the saddle, but they managed. Ari then hoisted herself onto Frost as well; it took them several minutes to get situated. Sharing a saddle wasn’t easy or comfortable in the best of circumstances. They rode slowly so as not to disturb their aching bodies.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” Ari said at one point. “I would have been more reckless had I no one to watch out for.”

Her words lanced through him, but he managed a weak, guilty laugh. “If this is you being careful, I’d hate to see you being careless.” One hand held onto her shoulder while the other found purchase on her hip — any attempt to raise that arm higher still instigated pain. Nikolaj felt naked without his bow, but there was no way in Oblivion he’d go back to get it. He wouldn’t let Ari do it either, and he was glad she hadn’t offered. His armor was indeed unsalvageable. His wounds felt every excess movement despite Frost’s leisurely pace. He remembered his horse and all the things he’d lost with her: nothing that couldn’t be replaced, but it was still a loss. “What are your plans in Windhelm?” he asked. “Something exciting, I hope — lots of rigorous physical activity! Perfect for a pair of injured thieves.”

Ari snorted. “Anything rigorous and exciting will be confined to a warm bed.” She decided not to leave him completely in the dark. “I’ve intercepted some shipments at the docks — or I suppose my contact has. It’s simple. Trust me, the trouble we’ve had already is the worst of it.” She dithered, uncertain of how much she should tell him. “I also have some personal business to settle, if that’s okay with you. Though I understand if you’d rather just get this over with and go home.”

He hummed, thinking. Her personal business intrigued him. He only hoped he was physically up to the task of sniffing it out. “Ah, ‘personal business.’ I know a rebuff when I hear one.”

“Sounds like you’re backing out,” she teased him, testing him, too. “I won’t be gone long.”

“Take all the time you need; Windhelm has its charms, if you know where to look.”

“That it does.” She chastised herself for allowing some stranger to grow on her. “I should redress that wound when we stop.”

Nikolaj enjoyed their banter, the ease of coexistence. Ari felt comfortable, like an old friend he was meeting for the first time. He wondered if it was like that for her with Brynjolf, too.

Windhelm rose out of the humidity, a man-made mountain surrounded by summer mist. At the stables, Ari left Frost in Ulundil’s capable hands, paying him generously. “Please keep him company; he gets lonely.”

“No trouble at all. I haven’t seen you in some time. How have you been?”

They made small talk for as long as Ari could stand; she was still in pain, though she had little to show for it. She didn’t want to make Nikolaj wait around, either.

As they approached the city gates, Ari grabbed Nikolaj’s arm without thinking. Embarrassed, she released him. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Guards make me nervous.”

“That’s quite alright; you can hold my hand, if you like. I won’t let any big, bad guards get you, though somehow I think you might like that.” He laughed, but positioned himself between her and the nearest guard. If her conversation with the stable hand was any indication, she obviously came here often enough to be recognizable.

Inside the city, he caught sight of Silda begging for coin. Fishing out a Septim, he dropped it in her hands while giving her a pointed look before following after Ari.

“Good man. No wonder Bryn likes you.” She winked at him. “I mean, I’m sure with some thorough investigation I could come up with a few other reasons.”

At the inn, she rented a room with a tub. One of her favorite things about Windhelm was the running water. As soon as they shut their door, Ari turned on Nikolaj and ordered him to strip.

“Get in that tub. If you die of bloodrot on my watch, _I’ll_ die of shame.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, feigning exasperation. “You know, if you want to see me naked again, you can just say.” Still, he complied, removing his shirt and loosening his belt before sitting on the bed to take off his boots.

“Let me see before you get it wet.” She was genuinely concerned: long travel in summer weather wasn’t ideal for fresh wounds, but she wasn’t put-off about getting him out of his clothes.

His right arm twinged, but he ignored it. Straightening his spine, he began to exercise the way Ari had shown him. “You must still be in pain. If you want to be rubbed down, say the word.” He remembered the softness of her skin.

She avoided eye contact with him as she undressed. She was hurting, and she didn’t want to own up to it, but pretending to be fine was almost as exhausting as healing grave wounds. Rotating her shoulder, she acted like she had to think about his offer. “If you really wouldn’t mind.”

When the tub was close to full, she turned off the tap. Steam filled the room, clogging her head. She sat beside Nikolaj and put her hands on him without asking. His stitches were clean and tight, but he smelled like infection. “We need to clean you up and I should put some antiseptic on that.” She felt compelled to apologize again, but swallowed it.

Ari led him to the bath and held him steady as he got in. The water displaced as she got in with him, spilling over a bit. She sighed, contented. Then she began gently nursing Nikolaj’s wound with her hand, acutely aware of his proximity. “You’re going to need more healing if we want this to pass,” she concluded. “We’ll leave the stitches in another day or two and then I’ll close you up.” Looking up, she was caught in his idle gaze. “You have gorgeous eyes,” she said candidly.

“Oh. Um. Thank you.” Her compliment struck him, and his face flushed. He really hoped she wouldn’t notice. “Your eyes are very pretty, too.” Wracking his brain for something else to say, he tried again. “So what sort of salve should I look for? For your shoulder, I mean?”

Ari grinned. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered. Ask the alchemist for a mild paralytic, something topical.”

She washed her hair then washed his for him; she considered offering to towel him off, but didn't want to push her luck. While he dressed, she sat at the modest vanity, still naked. She dusted powder onto her face and lined her eyes in heavy black kohl, brushing the stuff up into her lashes. She even dipped into a pot of rouge, painting her lips and cheeks. “Shipment can be picked up tomorrow, so I’m going out for a while. You should get some rest while I’m gone.” Dabbing some perfumed oil onto her neck, she rubbed the excess through her hair.

She unrolled her clothing: an unassuming gown, dyed black. It hugged her closely, like it might have loved her. She also had a plain, black corset. Showing it to Nikolaj, she asked, “Can you lace me up, or are you only good at getting women out of these?”

“I’m certain I can, but I may charge you for my services.” Smiling, he stepped behind her, catching a whiff of the perfume. Studiously, he began lacing her into the corset. “This must be some business for you to pull out all of this.” He tried to put the pieces together, but something was missing. Admiring her exaggerated figure, he was tempted to touch. “You look lovely.” He stepped back to appreciate her fully.

Ari turned and kissed him on the mouth. “For your time and sweet words.” She slipped into her boots and donned her cloak. Outside, it was mild and balmy. A breeze blew in off the inlet and the day was clear, a beautiful blue sky stretched endlessly above her. Taking a circuitous route, Ari meandered through the Stone Quarter and up along an overpass. It dumped her out into the front courtyard of the palace, but she kept on down a side street, past wealthy homes with candles in their windows. She stopped to look around; no one was behind her. A guard stood on the street, but she likely wouldn’t see Ari. If she did, she could be convinced to cooperate.

Ari strolled down an alley, flanked by a stone wall on one side and a mass of plant life on the other. She was grateful that it was summer, lest she have to worry about leaving footprints. Finally she came to the little wooden door in the wall, and found it unlocked. Pushing it open, she let herself into the courtyard.

Nikolaj followed her, having disappeared into the crowd when he waved goodbye to her at the market. He considered trying to find Silda, but time was of the essence and he couldn’t afford to lose Ari. He trailed her, ducking behind corners and watching from the shadows as she snaked through the city. Her path was careful and overly long, but eventually he watched her slip into the backyard of the Palace of the Kings. Given the political leanings of the Guild, his interest was piqued. He allowed for some more distance between them before creeping after her into the keep.

In the courtyard, where the high walls blocked much of the sunlight, it was still chilly. Pulling her cloak close to her, Ari sat on a bench and waited. New flowers had been planted: velvety crocuses and white lilies. These weren’t summer flowers, but they were some of her favorites. When she’d waited long enough, she stood and combed the ground for the perfect, round pebble. Positioning herself under his study window, she took a calculated swing. It made a satisfying ‘ _thunk_ ’ before falling back to the earth, lost somewhere in the flowerbed.

A few moments later, she was joined in the garden by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak.

“You could have come up, you know.”

“I do know,” she smiled. “I didn’t want to; it’s a nice day out.”

“It is. We could go walking later. I could have Sifnar prepare a basket. We could have dinner by the water — although I don’t know that your dress would survive it. It’s very pretty.” Teasingly, he grabbed her chin between thumb and forefinger, but she yanked it away.

“No, I don’t want to be seen. You know that.”

“At least I know you aren’t out for notoriety,” he joked, but his voice was glum. “You won’t be seen with me outside these walls, but you don’t mind coming in to get warm. It isn’t as if my guards are made of stone.”

“I’m very happy to be seen with you by the city guard,” she said, not joking at all.

Looking tired, he shook his head. “So that’s it, then.”

“Stop.” She put a hand on his chest.

Ulfric folded her up in his arms; he was so much bigger than her that it was almost comical. “I’m sorry. Won’t you come up?”

Ari felt warm and safe in his embrace, but the longer he held her, the more she itched to get free. Restlessly, she squirmed, getting loose but still clinging to his arm. “Of course, but I can’t stay tonight.”

Ulfric’s face fell into a careful, polite expression. “You have other engagements?”

She hated when he did this, when he spoke in riddles. “None, if I can help it.”

Sighing, he let her go, turning his back to her and gazing over the courtyard walls. “What will it take, Ari? What don’t I have to give? You could have anything you want.”

Snappishly she said, “Can you give me an end to the war?”

Ulfric turned around sharply. “And what would you have me do?”

“You asked.”

From his hiding spot, Nikolaj tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Ari and Ulfric Stormcloak, clearly quite familiar with one another… He wondered how much the jarl knew about her, really: Ari rarely showed her hand and seemed to prefer it that way. Still, their interaction seemed intimate, if a bit strained. They wandered past him on their way inside, and Nikolaj caught the faintest touch of Ari’s sweet perfume. Disbelieving, he almost followed after them, but as their footsteps faded, he made his escape.

Back on the street, he found Silda the Unseen, huddled in a sheltered corner as the sun began to set.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you through here,” she rasped. “I was starting to wonder if you were dead.”

“Not yet, at least,” he replied and was tutted for his cavalier tone.

“Don’t go asking for something you really don’t want,” she admonished, motherly. “I got your message. What do you need me to find?”

“A sleeping daught. Something strong, but undetectable.” He had considered asking for out and out poison, but his guilt convinced him he needed to do the deed personally, or not at all.

“Consider it done. Check the usual spot tomorrow evening.” Silda slipped past him then and into the encroaching night.

His business concluded, he poked into the alchemist’s shop and haggled with the blacksmith before returning to Candlehearth Hall.

  
  
  


When Ari returned, she was disheveled and exhausted. She’d brushed out her hair but it still smelled like sweat and perfume. Her clothes were wrinkled from spending much of the night in a heap in a corner with someone else’s. Her powder had sweated off and her kohl was flaking uncomfortably into her eyes.

Nikolaj was curled up in a chair, whittling away at a small block of cedar. He seemed very focused, and Ari admired him.

“I didn’t know you whittled,” she said, pulling herself out of her corset. She would have liked his help again, but there were little purple love bites all over her body and she didn’t want him to see. Splashing her face, she rubbed her makeup off. “What are you making?”

Nikolaj looked up, snorting at her appearance. “Business was good, then,” he joked. He had so many questions and containing them was difficult. “I’m making something for you, if you’d like. A dragon? A bear?” His voice remained casual but he felt tense. “I draw the line at hagravens, though.”

She snorted. “Bears frighten me,” she joked, thinking of Ulfric. Taking the block from his hand, she blew out the candle. “Let me think about it.” In the dark, she took him by the hand and led him to bed. “Rub my shoulder for me?”

“You do realize I’m no Khajiit, right? How am I supposed to find your shoulder in the dark?” he asked, fumbling for the netch jelly he’d picked up at the alchemy supply. He decided Ulfric was a visual lover, for Ari to be hiding like this...though, the less savory alternative did not escape him.

“What are you scared of?” She pulled him closer. “Use your hands.” She was self-conscious even in the dark, terrified that somehow he would see. It wasn’t judgement she feared — he didn’t seem the type — but she knew it would invite questions. She lied to people regularly, but this was personal rather than professional. And anyway, she disliked the idea of lying to Nikolaj specifically.

The jelly was cool on his hand as he searched for her shoulder with the other one. Finding the back of her neck instead, he trailed his fingers over her skin, enjoying its softness. When he did find her shoulder, he rubbed a generous amount of jelly into it, attempting not to dirty the hem of her dress. Not for the first time, he wondered what, exactly, he was doing.

His fingers were warm and a chill ran down her spine, dissipating in her limbs. He kept to the exposed skin and didn’t venture any further. Her shoulder was starting to go numb, but the pain radiated into her back.

“I’m going to need more than that. And rub it in, don’t just let it sit on the skin. Mostly, though,” she pulled her dress off, allowing it to pool at her feet, “I just want your hands on me.”

“Oh.” Nikolaj replied stupidly. Clearing his throat, he said, “And here I thought I’d be, ah, taking care of myself tonight.” He began massaging down her back, paying attention to the knots of tension he found. He kissed her neck.

She hummed, content. “I like taking care of you,” she smiled. With one hand, she reached behind herself and playfully dipped a finger beneath the hem of his leggings. Suddenly, inexplicably nervous, she retreated. “Unless...if you don’t want…”

His breath caught in his throat. “Oh, I’m definitely interested.” He managed a laugh. “But I feel...I have to ask: are you alright?” His hands maintained slow circles on her back, massaging the tension out of it.

Ari felt like a scared animal. She balled her hands into fists and tried desperately to hold onto even the smallest shred of control. She almost wanted him to leave her to fall apart in peace, but she also wanted to be held. She imagined him consoling her with words that didn’t sound right in his voice, and that saddened her.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Is something wrong?”

He could feel her shaking. Had Ulfric hurt her? Wrapping her loosely in his arms, he said, “Nothing’s wrong if you say so. I’ll listen though, if you need it.” Slowly, trying not to startle her, he kissed her temple, keeping his breathing even. “I’m here.”

“I—” she was on the verge of tears. Composing herself, she drew in a deep breath and turned in his arms. Snaking them around his neck, she closed the gap between them. She knew he would feel the wetness from her eyes on his shirt, but she couldn’t contain it anymore, and blinked away her tears. At the nape of his neck, she curled her fingers in his hair. Suddenly very aware that he was dressed and she was not, she revealed, “I had a fight with a friend today.” She paused, unsure of what she was going to say. “Nikolaj, just make me feel better.”

Brushing a tear away on his finger, he leaned forward to kiss her. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised. He stripped off his shirt, remembering to wipe his hands of the jelly. Massaging her breasts, he kissed her deeply, trying to draw the sadness out of her. He was slow and thorough, lavishing her with attention.

The abruptness with which her body responded to him was startling. Ari pushed up on her toes, trying to get closer. His kisses, idle and deliberate, held her attention. Had she been more aware of herself, she would have been embarrassed, but Nikolaj had a way of stripping her of her inhibitions.

She broke away from him to rest her forehead against his chin; his stubble was prickly, but she didn’t mind.

Nikolaj held her a moment, absently following her curves with his hands. She was soft, relatively pliant — solid, but caught between the give and take of their bodies. He led her back onto the bed, then, leaning her against the pillows. His kisses travelled the length of her body, wandering sometimes, before he ended up between her legs. He pushed a finger inside her while mouthing at her clit, his other hand teasing a nipple. Her noises were exquisite.

The ease with which he fingered her was shocking: it always took some commitment, even when she was wet, but he’d managed without much effort. Impatient, she pushed against him, trying to get more, though she knew better than to rush. “Are…” she trailed off. “Do you feel good? I want...I want you to feel good, too.”

Looking up, he could barely make her out in the dark. “I feel wonderful,” he assured, adding a second finger to her cunt. She tasted different than she had yesterday — briefly, he considered what that meant, but discarded the thought. His leggings had become uncomfortable, so he pulled them off and cast them aside. Dutifully, he returned to Ari, pushing his fingers back inside her. He rested beside her, kissing her.

Ari bit his bottom lip, wrinkling her nose because he smelled like her.

Ulfric wasn’t rough with her, exactly, but it always felt like he was trying to get a hold on her. Nikolaj was just trying to make her feel, and doing it slowly, exactingly. She whined, pushing back onto his fingers. She stroked his chest, his sides, his back; she enjoyed the feeling of his muscles working under her touch. Slowly, she dragged her nails up his back and stroked the scars on his face with her knuckles.

“Talk to me,” she said. “Distract me. I don’t want to think of him while I’m with you.”

Surprise overtook him; he hadn’t expected her to admit it outright.

Renewing his effort, he added a third finger. “You’re so wet, I can’t wait to feel you — to fill you up.” He relaxed his fingers and savored her frustrated gasp. “I’d keep you in bed forever, if I could, fucking you slowly, my lips never far from yours.” As if to demonstrate, he kissed her again, coaxing a moan from his own throat that she swallowed. His thumb brushed her clit while he stretched her. “And if it wasn’t my cock inside you, it’d be my tongue,” he whispered in her ear.

She squirmed under him, pawing at his chest, trying to get more of him in any way she could. “ _Please_.” The world outside their door seemed to have fallen away as she sank beneath him. The sensation in her clit was bordering on painful and she was getting stuck on that feeling of not-quite-fullness. “Give me your cock.” She wasn’t sure she was ready yet, but she was more than willing to try. “Nikolaj, I need you.”

He groaned, kissing her again. “I’m right here,” he said, sliding his fingers out of her. Rearranging himself to kneel in front of her, he rubbed the head of his cock along her cunt, enjoying the slick of it. His hands cradled her hips. “Ready?”

Biting her lip, she nodded. Her hands found his forearms and she held on while he pushed into her. Her back arched and she squeezed around him; he stopped. “No, no you feel so good,” she assured him. In the back of her mind, it registered that this was more earnest and affectionate than their night in Kynesgrove, that she was vulnerable. She wiggled her hips, trying to get the best angle, but she liked the look on Nikolaj’s face just as well.

He swore, enamored with her body. He ground against her until he found a position that made her moan. Deliberate and focused, he coaxed more out of her, pushing into her — a gentle rhythm, at least until she relaxed around his cock. He kissed underneath her jaw, biting her. “ _Ari_.” He had nothing else to say.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, goading him on. She moaned against his skin as if in thanks. “You make me feel so good,” she praised. She looked up at him with wild eyes, trying to find something familiar in his. One of her hands fell from his shoulder to rest at his side; she palmed his skin, hot and slick, a hand resting on the curve of his ass. “Don’t stop until you’re done,” she insisted. “Finish wherever you want.”

His thrusts picked up speed, a moan escaping his lips. “You’ll be the end of me, won’t you, Ari.” The entire night seemed distilled down to the points where their bodies met. Electricity gathered wherever she touched, and he felt like he might combust. “I’m getting close,” he warned, a hand reaching between them to touch her clit.

He missed the mark a few times, but she didn’t mind.

He found her eyes in the darkness. “I want to watch you.” His hips slammed against her thighs and his fingers curled against her skin. He finished inside her, groaning her name.

Ari gasped, fist clenching the sheet; as he pulled out, she felt him, warm and thick, spilling out of her. She kissed him, smiling, delighted by his last short, erratic thrusts. He stood and she followed him, perched at the edge of the bed where she cleaned him up with her mouth. She tolerated the taste of herself because it was worth the noises he made.

While he fell onto the bed, dazed and content, she still felt restless. She felt empty. “You still wanna’ watch?” She was going to cum whether he watched or not, but she liked the idea.

Sighing contentedly, he pulled her close. “I’d love nothing more.”

Wriggling away from him, she settled  on her back, spreading her legs so he could see. With her clit nestled in the V of her fingers, she used her other hand to finger herself, acutely aware of his cum leaking out of her. She loved the way he stared, almost in awe, it seemed. “Can I have your mouth?” she asked after a moment.

Giddy, he crawled toward her, and tasted the mess he’d made with the flat of his tongue. Pushing it into her as deep as he could, he hummed, hoping it felt good for her.

Ari watched, lips parted, as he swallowed his own cum. He ate her like he was starved. “You’re disgusting,” she said fondly, playing with his hair. Grabbing the back of his head, she pushed him against her, fucking his face. Without much warning, her body was wracked with an orgasm, her legs pushed out to either side of him, toes spread. Loudly, she called his name, trailing off into incoherency. Pleasure swelled through her body over and over and for a moment, she wondered if it wasn’t going to stop.

When she finally relaxed, her fingers were curling and uncurling in the sheets and her body felt limp. Sweat trickled down her neck and her hair was damp against her skin. Looking down at him, she found Nikolaj grinning crookedly, his mouth and chin soaked.

“Wash your mouth out and cuddle me,” she demanded, sinking back into the pillows.

“As the lady commands.” Jokingly, he threatened to kiss her before he pulled himself off their bed with a laugh. His legs felt like jelly beneath him, but he made it to the pitcher without trouble. His entire body radiated, relaxed...but niggling thoughts, unpleasant things, wormed their way to the front of his mind. He stamped them out, deciding to enjoy himself a bit longer.

He swigged and spit, then returned to Ari. His pain was minimal, the wound on his chest down to a stinging bite and his arm throbbing dully, so he held Ari close. Feeling the chill of morning, he brought the blankets over them, the sweat on his body beginning to cool. Absently, he stroked his knuckles down the length of her spine, soothing. “How important is this shipment, anyway?” he asked. “We could just stay here in bed.”

Ari curled up close to him, closing her eyes. “I’d love to stay in bed with you all day.” _I’d love to stay in bed with you forever_ , she thought, remembering his words. “But I’ve already gone over the account for this job; I’m paying out of pocket, now. Besides, the sooner we get back, the less I have to explain to Karliah. Let’s sleep first, though. As long as we leave before sunset, I should be fine.”

She turned over and snuggled him, sleep teasing her like a fickle lover. It never took her, and she lay awake beside him. His breathing was slow and soft, but she couldn’t tell if he was fully asleep. Her drowsiness made her honest.

“Nikolaj? Nikolaj are you awake?” Gently, she soothed a hand over his arm. “There’s...something I want to speak with you about.”

“Hm?” Sleepily, he tried to rouse himself even as he had almost drifted off. Her vulnerable tone caught his attention, though. “What is it?” He ran a hand through her short, blonde hair.

She couldn’t look at him, so she hid her face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, and hoped he wouldn’t mind what she had to say. “You spoke of the Brotherhood...how they tried to recruit you. I just...I wanted to say, I understand.” She teetered on the brink of her own sentence, as though it were the edge of the world. “They...they tried me, too. It...it was horrible, nothing like the Guild.” Even now, the memory made her voice shake. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I understand. You know, if you ever want to talk about it.” She forced one of her arms under him and clung to him, kissing his jaw. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much.”

Dread solidified in his stomach, a sour, poisonous pit. So _that’s_ what had happened to Astrid; they had all wondered, of course, but no one had found any proof. Until now. And he had no more excuses he could hide behind: Ari had killed one of his family, and she had to pay the price. The bliss they had shared was shattered now, and he told her in a hollow voice, “Don’t ever apologize to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He didn’t recognize the Nikolaj Ari knew in this tone. He hoped she couldn’t see through him, that perhaps she thought he was reliving his own ‘capture.’ Kissing her lips, he tried to find some of the happiness he’d lost. “What happened?” he finally asked.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up; this probably isn’t the best time,” he chuckled nervously.

“Hey,” he forced himself to smile, trying to bring some warmth back to his voice. “You might feel better, if you spoke of it.”

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. “Like it helped you?” But she wanted to confide in someone. She hadn’t told a soul, not even Brynjolf — especially not Brynjolf. “It’s a very long, very convoluted story,” she warned.

“I have nothing but time,” he assured.

“Look, I...I did something. Something I normally wouldn’t have done. I…” The words tasted like bile on her tongue, but she spat them out anyway. “I killed someone. Technically, I was paid to do it, but I never accepted the payment,” she explained quickly, remembering how she’d had to force back tears when the little Aretino boy had handed her his family’s precious heirloom. After they’d parted ways, she’d tucked the thing into his knapsack. “Anyway, not long after, I’d received some ridiculous note,” she scoffed. “‘ _We know_ …’ As if I was supposed to know what that meant. And then one night, I woke up on a cold, bloody floor, held hostage in some rank shack in the middle of a marsh!” Her eyes were watering again, thinking about it, and she blinked the tears away, trying to forbid anymore from arriving. “Nikolaj, she wanted me to murder someone — she’d brought...captives. I’d stolen from her, she said. I owed the Brotherhood. She was so cold and calculating. I tried to argue with her, I did, but she wouldn’t have it! She refused to release me until somebody died. So I —” The tears were falling hot and steadily and a knot of guilt curled up in her stomach for crying on him. “So I attacked her. And do you know what her dying words were?” She was on the verge of hysterics now, her nose filling with the smell of blood and loosened bowels. “She told me — choking on her own blood — she said, ‘ _Well done_.’” She was sobbing, shaking with violent, quiet sobs. She coughed and turned away from him, not wanting him to see what a mess she was. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’ve ruined everything.”

Nikolaj rolled after her, fitting his body against hers. His arms snaked around her, holding her securely. He placed a chaste kiss at the base of her neck. “You haven’t ruined anything, Ari,” he whispered into her hair, soothing her through the worst of her shaking. “You’re safe.” The lie turned his tongue to ash.

It must have been Astrid, but...the sheer horror of it all. He remembered his own recruitment — extraordinarily mild, by comparison. The worst of it was that Ari had to die to satisfy the Night Mother, to satisfy Sithis. For the first time, the bloody recompense demanded by his family revolted him.

Once the worst of it had passed and her tears had run try, she curled up, feeling like a husk of herself. Nikolaj’s warm weight felt like a familiar blanket, though, and she thought she might sleep soundly so long as he was there.

“I know I’m not a good person,” she said finally, muffled by her stuffy nose. “I lie, steal, and cheat. I have never tried to justify that. But I wasn’t a killer. Not until then.” She paused, not certain she wanted to go on. But it was better to say it, out in the open, then to keep pretending she didn’t feel it. “Nikolaj, the moment I’d killed her, I was…” She searched herself, wracking her brain for the right words. When she couldn’t find them, she settled for what she had. “It was satisfying.” Shame overcame her and she felt like vomiting. “Please don’t tell Brynjolf; when the Brotherhood fell apart, the Guild was all over it. But what could I do? I couldn’t join the Brotherhood! The moral quandary aside, for me to have worked for both guilds...it would have gotten ugly, eventually.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he assured her quietly. The faint sounds of people stirring announced the start of the day. It felt too soon. “Let’s try and get some sleep,” he said. His chest ached, but he said nothing; he felt he deserved the pain.

 

*       *       *

 

When Ari woke, the sun was high in the sky, the light streaking through the windowpane and across her closed eyelids. Unsurprisingly, Nikolaj was up before her, sitting in the chair, reading. She remembered the night before, first with pleasure, but then it was colored with shame. She wished she could go back and change her mind, keep herself from telling him about her run-in with the Brotherhood. Her only comfort was that she hadn’t told him the entire bloody story.

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, crawling out of bed.

Nikolaj looked up and tried to smile. “Not long,” he lied. He had already been to his dead drop to retrieve the sleeping draft, and to pay Silda. The small, innocuous bottle was tucked away in his things, to be used at the first good opportunity.

“How are you feeling?”

“In truth, his chest was in agony. “I’ve been better.” Putting his book down, he stood and crossed the room to Ari, then cupped her soft cheek in his hand. “How about you? How are you doing?”

Ari laughed, hoarse and cynical. Still she leaned into his touch. She stood and went to the washbasin to rinse her hands. “Take off your shirt; let me see how that wound is doing.” She felt guilty, thinking of their impassioned night together; the sweat and exertion couldn’t have been good for him.

“Anything for you.” In the light, he was now able to see a trail of bruises on her skin — small, but obvious. A parting gift, then. “Ul—all those from your friend, yesterday?” he asked, barely catching himself in time. The thought upset him. To him, it seemed a jealous and petty thing to do; Ari deserved more respect than that.

“Yes, that was him,” she said, shaking her head. “He knows he isn’t the only one, and I suppose he wants the rest to know it, too.” She spoke with the tone of an exasperated mother.

“Sounds like he should get over himself,” Nikolaj said.

_The day Ulfric gets over himself is the day the war is over_ , she thought bitterly, but kept her mouth shut.

She examined Nikolaj’s chest, dabbing at his stitches with a soft, wet cloth. Tutting, she said, “I’m sorry, I really should not have worked you so hard last night.” Her smile got the better of her though as she remembered how he’d felt inside her, his voice in her ear…

“Don’t apologize, especially for last night.” He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t break her concentration. He settled for soothing a hand over her hair. “How bad is it?” he asked. “Not infected, I hope.”

“Not yet, but I should heal you. I had hoped to wait another day at least, but we need to close you up.” She got off of him and directed him onto the bed, keeping him flat on his back. From the nightstand, she gathered the last of the netch jelly and massaged it into the skin around his wound, hoping he wouldn’t suffer so greatly, this time. “Okay, Nikolaj,” she said sweetly, cutting his last stitch, “just close your eyes and think about my cunt.” Then, without any real warning, she yanked the thread out of his skin, each stitch snapping out of place in quick succession.

Pain ripped across his chest, his voice caught somewhere between a strangled groan and a tortured gasp. “You should know, I’m not normally so rough in bed.”

In both hands, she gathered her magic and set about closing him up. It always made her a little sick to watch skin and sinew knit itself back together, but she had to keep an eye on it to be safe. It took a good five or six minutes for everything to come together again, and when she was finished, there was still a big, pale scar across his chest. She fell back and heaved a great sigh, looking faint, her brow damp.

Slowly, Nikolaj pulled himself up and kissed Ari on the lips. “Thank you,” he said, smiling. “You’re truly an amazing woman. I’m lucky to have met you.” Suddenly embarrassed by his sincerity, he moved to the tub and turned the faucet. “I’ll need a new bow before we leave,” he said over the water. “We should clean up and head out.”

Nodding, she crawled off the bed, wobbling on her way to the tub. She felt like she was floating, a feather falling to the ground, and she couldn’t blame it entirely on the use of her magic. Being around Nikolaj made her stomach flutter and her chest tight. In the bath, she allowed him to wash her, enjoying his fingers through her hair, his hands on her body, his lips on her skin. He even toweled her dry once they got out, and helped her into her dress. Her corset, she laced loosely, by herself. Before they left, she set out a tip for all the noise they’d made.

At the docks, Ari met with a surly-looking Nord who didn’t give his name. He showed her several crates full of furs, ranging from pristinely, impossibly white to every color the eye could see, each richly dyed and ostensibly expensive.

“Per our arrangement,” she said, handing him a full coinpurse.

He pulled it open and examined its contents. Adequately compensated, he said, “Three crates today, and the rest goes back to the warehouse, to be distributed upon payment. Unless you’d like to make some negotiations today, miss,” he said, staring unrepentantly at her.

“I think our deal has been satisfied,” she remarked coldly. She gestured for Nikolaj to follow her, their business done. A small crew of Argonians helped lug the crates up through the city and out of the gate for them; she tipped them generously, shaking her head as she watched them leave. A driver was paid to take the cargo to Riften, where it would be received by Maul and taken directly to Brynjolf.

Ari turned to Nikolaj and said, “You still need a bow. Will a trade with the Khajiit suffice?” she would have been shocked if he had expressed any kind of disapproval.

“That’ll do,” he agreed. He remembered when his mother traveled with a caravan, for a time. Ever since, he’d been fond of them. He was able to find a suitable bow — nothing as good as one he could have made, but it would serve its purpose. A quick exchange of coin and their business was concluded. At the stable, he also bought a bay stallion; Frost was large, but the journey to Riften was a long one, too long to carry both Ari and Nikolaj.

Securing his pack and bedroll to the saddle, he turned to Ari. “Anything else?”

Cooly, she gazed at the palace. “I’ve done all I can, for now.” Hoisting herself into the saddle, she drew her hood up. “Would you rather take a different route?” she asked. “I’d definitely understand after...everything that happened.” She spoke as if she still couldn’t believe it. “It would only take a few days more if we travel through Ivarstead.”

Smiling, he replied, “More time with you? How could I say no?” He thought of the sleeping draft...it would be easiest to give it to her along the road. This would allow him more time. Swinging into the saddle, he said genially, “Let’s just not run into any more hagravens.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> original drafts cowritten with good friend mischiefish.


End file.
